You're Where I Am
by EclipseKlutz
Summary: As Illyria watches another mortal die, energy derived from grief sends her back to the beginning. And she has every intention of changing the end. WesleyxIllyria
1. Prologue

**_You're Where I Am: _****Prologue**

**By EclipseKlutz**

**PG-13**

**Drama/Romance/Action/Adventure/Horror**

**Spoilers: **Takes place seven minutes after the end of 'Not Fade Away'.

**Disclaimer: **Angel belongs to Joss, still does and always will—now people, if you can't keep the T.V. show, make a movie dammit!

* * *

Rain cascaded from the skies, drenching Angel in the unnervingly warm waters as he held his axe high in the air and swung down, chopping an unidentified demon's head in half. From his counting, this was his fiftieth demon in the past seven minutes, and he was worried of what would come at the end of the next three.

He'd loose another of his own. Even Illyria had noticed Gunn's life fading and had wasted no time pointing it out, though now she fought with a vengeance—as though trying to avenge Wesley's loss. Had it not been for the rain, Angel could have sworn earlier he'd noticed tears plastered to the ex-god-king's cheeks.

A demon grabbed him from the side, digging its claws into his rib cage, bloodying the flesh. Biting his lip to stifle the pain, the ensouled vampire pulled his axe back once more and shoved it into the demon's neck.

Fifty-one…

Another came at him from the side, diverting his path from the dragon he _really _wanted to battle. He sighed, stabbing this one as well and pulling the axe through the demon's stomach and wrenching it through four others.

…Fifty-six…

* * *

Illyria hissed at the creature before her, its structure long and twisted through years of immortality and training. The thing remained unintimidated, infuriating her. Did it not know who she was?

Anger mounted upon her grief, fueling her desire to continue fighting. It lashed out at her with its metal-plated fist, and she ducked on instinct and returned with a swift kick to the gut and shoving the blade she'd "borrowed" from the ancient red demon on life support through its head.

The creature moaned, staggering backwards into a leather-clad figure cussing out a beefy green demon. _Spike_. At being hit in the back, the vampire spun angrily and pushed the knife farther into the creature's skull before he noticed her standing there fending off a trio of midget-sized vampires.

"What do you say we swap? I take on the kiddies, you kill off big, green and drooly," he offered, his signature smirk pasted on his face.

Illyria tossed him a weary glance as she shoved her elbow into the chest of one of the midgets, turning it to dust in an instant. Then the heel of her shoe went through another's neck, leaving the last one to stare at her with widened eyes as she threw it into the wall.

"I'll take that as a no," Spike stated, shrugging as "big, green and drooly" tried to punch him yet staggered to the side and fell over in the process.

"It is a worthless trade," she informed him bitterly, holding her head high. "Neither are good opponents in battle. Find me one worth my time."

"Okay, no more offering uneven switches to the gal in blue, got it," Spike mumbled to himself as he planted his sword in his demon's heart.

* * *

Lorne sighed, staring down at the burnt orange color of the drink before him. His nineteenth shot went down the hole not a minute later, yet he coughed it up as he set the glass down.

The demon's emotions were conflicting, making him regret leaving the team all because he'd killed someone that might have ended the world. Narrowing his red eyes, Lorne slammed his fists down on the gray counter of the bar, grabbing some unwanted attention.

"To hell with it," he shouted aloud as he slid off his bar stool. "I'll help them—I'll die helping them..."

Yet despite the sureness of his words, his steps staggered and his mind was fogged in the drunkenness. He'd never make it there in time…

* * *

Gunn choked as blood rose in his throat, flooding its copper taste into his mouth and dribbling down his chin. _His _blood. Grabbing the nearby concrete slab of a wall for support, the long-time vampire hunter clasped his chest, trying desperately to keep his enemies at bay while he awaited the inevitable.

His time was draining too quickly; he didn't like the sensation one bit. A towering amber scaled demon lunged at him, not giving him a chance to protest. Yet the demon was thrown backwards, and there in its place stood Illyria, holding the demon by its thick neck, her hand slowly squeezing the windpipe.

Quitting the game of sadistically watching the thing suffer and choke, she tore its throat out and tossed the blood-saturated organ to the floor beside its owner's corpse. She focused her attention on him just as he collapsed to his knees on the ground, choking over the liquid in his throat.

Illyria watched him unsurely before finally kneeling down beside him and pointing out, "Your life is fading…" She tilted her head to the side as though to get a better look at him.

"I know—we mortals are stupid, but we can tell when we're about to die," Gunn replied, kneeling forwards and coughing up more of the fluid.

He felt her arm draped across his chest to keep him from falling over and glanced up at her, as if in confusion. Yet what he saw was far from what he'd been expecting. Grief was a mirror image in her eyes, and it suddenly dawned upon him that she had indeed in her weakened state grown attached to them all. Wesley most though, and his death had hurt her more than she was willing to admit.

"I will not watch as two of my companions die," She stated. "Why didn't you listen to me?"

"What? When you said not to get myself killed? Don't you think I t-tried?" Gunn responded, choking over the last word.

"I won't watch you die…"

And that was when time froze around her, and the clocks turned back.

* * *

****

**TBC…**

**A/N: **Continue, yes or no? Reviews _needed_! Thanks...


	2. Chapter One: Beginning Again

**_You're Where I Am_ **

**Chapter One: _Beginning Again_**

**By EclipseKlutz**

****

****

**PG-13**

**Drama/Romance/Action/Adventure/Horror**

**Spoilers: **Takes place from here within and after the series finale, 'Not Fade Away'

**Disclaimer: **The show, the cast… they all belong to the brilliant mind of Joss.

* * *

At first, the door stubbornly refused to open, even beneath the pressure the two grown men were bestowing upon it. The thick wooden plank that passed for a door was tilted sideways, and badly distorted and cracked as though someone had stuck it in a large washing machine before placing it back in its frame.

Behind them, Spike let out a groan of both amusement and annoyance before finally shoving Wesley and Gunn aside. With a grin that was equally as cocky as the tone in his voice, he stated boldly, "Now watch the pro and learn."

Taking a deep breath, Spike took a few steps backwards before charging forwards into the door, colliding with the solid material in a matter of seconds. The door flew open, and Gunn and Wesley found themselves passing a moaning Spike who was clutching his shoulder in pain.

But Spike even forgot the shock waves running through the joint of his shoulder as he and the others noticed the figure sprawled across the floor like a rag doll on her stomach. He, Lorne and Gunn hovered to the side as Wesley knelt beside Illyria and rolled her gently into his arms, all the while urging, "Illyria, can you hear me?"

The dried blood smeared across the peach and blue tones of her face coated the tops of her eyelids as well and had plastered down her eyelashes in a fashion similar to glue, making the process of opening them painful and slow. Despite this, she fluttered here eyelids slightly, yet what she saw was very different from what she'd been preparing herself for.

"W-Wesley?" She inquired as her mind defogged itself, and her vision came through less blurry. Gently, Illyria set the tips of her fingers upon his left cheek before whispering, "But you're dead…"

The ex-watcher regarded her with curiosity for a moment, but this was cut off as Gunn inquired, "What did this?"

Illyria glanced over at him wearily, recalling that she'd been posed with the same question before, in the same tone and circumstances. Could it be she'd been given a second chance? Or was it a lie? Either way, she knew she'd have to play along—repeat the past in some order, and maybe fix it.

"Hamilton," she replied faintly.

"Hamilton did this?" Angel demanded as he entered the room, his expensive black jacket dancing slightly behind him.

Illyria listened without interest as the scene played on, repeating words she'd heard before and ones she wished she hadn't. "_Treat the day like your last, for all we know it is."_

And for the man absently cradling her in his arms, it was truly the final day. But she knew she could prevent it…

* * *

Wesley gently brushed her hair behind her shoulders and sat beside her so he could properly apply a gauze to the bloodied blue flesh of her neck. Illyria's form tensed slightly as she prepared for the chill and minor sting of the odd cross between a solid and a fluid.

It was as obvious as it had been the first time she'd lived this day that he didn't wish to leave the confinements of the apartment, and would probably return to Wolfram and Hart later. But as she was still unsure whether or not she could save him from the fate that would meet him as the day concluded, Illyria resolved to discreetly make him leave.

"I wish to try this… coffee Angel spoke of," she announced as Wesley applied the other bandage to her wounded skin.

Wesley glanced at her, trying to keep his confused expression appearing somewhat professional. Deciding that coffee, and possibly lunch wouldn't be all that bad and could possibly open new doors for Illyria he nodded, "When I'm done… but you can't go looking like that, it's bound to get attention."

"Neither may I attend as Fred," it was more of an understanding statement than a question.

Wesley paused, before responding in a hoarse tone that symbolized that this was his last choice, "Just this once, you can _look _like Fred, but don't _be_ her… please don't be her."

With that he climbed to his feet and exited the room, leaving her to watch the door in unspoken confusion. Spike's words echoed in her head, yet she made a point of disregarding them as she changed her genetic makeup.

_"To some of us, looking like Fred is the most devastating power you have."_

* * *

The steaming dark brown liquid in the mug before her finally settled its ripples, which had been swirling across the brim for the past minute. Tilting her head to the side and allowing curled brunette strands of hair to fall across her face, Illyria inquired of her companion, "And you can drink this?"

Wesley shook his head in vague amusement at her misunderstanding of the world around her. In response he took another gulp of his own coffee, and as he set his mug back in its spot on the wooden surface of the table, he told her, "Indeed. You ordered it, so I'd much rather you drink it then waste my money."

Timidly, Illyria brought the cup to her lips and allowed brown liquid to flood her mouth. She swallowed it hastily and with difficulty, before casting her remorseful gaze upon him, "That concoction tastes more vile then poison."

"Really?" Wesley responded, taking another sip of his own before adding, "What did you put in it?"

"You're supposed to put things into this… drink?" She replied, glancing over at the plastic tray loaded with various spices, sugars and syrups positioned at the edge of the table. Picking up the glass container of shredded, thin brown and black strands and holding it above her coffee she asked, "Such as this?"

"No, Illyria, that's pepper," Wesley informed her, snatching it away from her hands. Handing her his own mug he stated, "Try this and tell me if you like it."

Illyria nodded unsurely, and held the cup as though it might attack her at any given moment as she drank some. After a moment she took another sip, then another, apparently not intending to give Wesley his coffee back anytime soon.

Chuckling inwardly to himself, Wesley started adding various crème, several spices and honey into the cup he'd bought for her. Stirring it quickly, he handed the coffee to her in exchange for his own. Of course, by now his was gone. Rolling his eyes, he flagged down a waitress and ordered a refill and a pizza.

"A pizza?" Illyria inquired as the waitress walked away.

Wesley offered her a small smile, "You'll see."

* * *

****

**Kitka: **Thanks— it _is _a mess, isn't it?

**Oh, Great Evil One: **Hated the ending too. And yes, Angel probably won't make it that long.

**Kat: **Thank you!

**White Rabbit: **Thanks!

**Hieiko: **You've nothing to fear—I'm physically incapable of killing off Spike.

**Jan H.: **LOL, thanks for the review.

**Tariq: **Okay, ever-so illiterate person here, what's B/A?

**Alltorian: **Believe me, few words is a talent.

**Hearns: **grins Possibly…

**The Bell and the Black Dragon: **Spike can't die! And thanks tons.

**Crunchberry: **Thanks lots!

**Philyra: **Thanks a lot!

**Tarvalie: **You cried too, huh? sniff

**A/N: **Sorry the chapter's so short, my self-proclaimed beta reader took forever to get around to reading this, and when she did she told me just to post it as it is… next chapter will be longer, promise.Okay, now review please!


	3. Chapter Two: Where to Go

**_You're Where I Am_**

**Chapter Two: _Where to Go_ **

**By EclipseKlutz **

****

**PG-13**

**Drama/Romance/Action/Adventure/Horror**

**Spoilers: **Within finale, 'Not Fade Away'

**Disclaimer: **I only do this 'cause then you can't sue me… don't own the characters, Joss Whedon does—I wished I owned them though, do you think Joss would let me have them and the show?

**A/N: **Sorry this took so long, was sent away on a vacation. Anyways, will write the season six once this is finished, so I won't be reusing the plot… Also, there seems to be some miscommunication here, but it **will not **be in scrip form—can't do that to save my life.

* * *

Illyria stood to the side in utter silence, refusing to allow herself to speak and therefore alert the others to what was going to happen in the near future. It was painful to watch Angel give the same speech that would be the one marking the team's mortals demise, and it hurt much more to know that interfering with her own knowledge could ruin any plot the Powers That Be had.

She scoffed at the thought; the Powers That Be… they had no plan for the future of this dimension and so many others, which was why they'd allowed things to turn to this. This world, run by mortals instead of the gods whom rightfully owned it; this world, confused with concoctions that did little to serve their purpose; this world, doomed to be haunted by inferior races forevermore.

The speech that still echoing throughout the small room didn't hold much encouragement, nor enthusiasm for what was about to happen. Still, it was nearing the assignments so she'd have to offer some of her attention to the droning ooze. Upon saying her words that left him somewhat bewildered, Illyria held her head high as she'd done before, acting as though there was nothing wrong with the current scenario.

But there was something wrong: everything. As Angel turned on his heel to symbolize that it was time for the murders and masquerades to begin, she fell in to step with Gunn as she recalled doing before, yet this time said something different, something she prayed would prove useful.

"They flow in alarming numbers, watch your vital organs," she announced, allowing slight vanity to seep into her voice as she added, "I'd prefer to see you alive, you are rather… more amusing then some of your kind."

He gawked at her, something that turned to a small grin of amusement, "I'll try… you keep breathing too."

Illyria nodded as she offered pleasantly, "Perhaps discuss the status of our lives over coffee sometime?"

Gunn let out a small chuckle before he replied, "Sure thing."

Wesley came up behind her, gently placing a hand on her shoulder that she didn't attempt to shrug away.

"I'm sorry to say, I got her addicted," he announced, shaking his head.

Spike also decided to join the conversation, "Well, it's better then her making trophies out of our spines… or whatever it is she said."

* * *

She was nervous, her heart was lounged in her throat, and there was nothing she could do but wait… Illyria had to kill her victims before she went to save Wesley from his own fate, but they were taking much too long for her pleasure.

She was actually beginning to consider walking into the restaurant and assassinating them there, but she could almost hear the disapproving comments of her… what were they now, anyways? Comrades? Friends? Guardians? Team? And why did their fate mean so much to her?

This last question didn't leave much time to be pondered over though, as three chatty demons exited the club, discussing politics and the like. If she waited for them to get in the car though, it'd take longer then she wanted… so she'd have to be quick.

Tracing the shadows and walking up behind them, Illyria placed her gloved hands upon the nearest demon's head and twisted, snapping the neck and leaving the skull hanging at an odd angle.

The other three whirled around in time to see her sidestep the space she'd occupied not a second earlier. Hastily, she snatched a thin iron bar that had been sitting, abandoned, in the trashcan. With that residing comfortably in her firm grip, it took a few precious moments to shove it through one of the demon's foreheads and then slice it across the remaining one's neck.

Three bloodied and mangled corpses lay in her wake as she ran with all the speed she could muster towards the sorcerer's mansion. Illyria could only pray she wasn't already too late…

* * *

Wesley was trapped, suffocating inside an invisible shield that suspended him a foot and a half above the grand marble floor. The wizard circled him, clutching his own knife within his hand as he gave him pep talks on the proper uses of magic and why Wesley's was so inferior.

He didn't care though; he'd come looking for closure, and if that came in the form of death then so be it, at least he'd be with Fred for eternity. Clenching his eyes shut, then reopening them again, he glared the red demon down and stated in a voice that was as exasperated as his emotions, "Would you shut up already?"

The demon smirked, thoroughly enjoying, yet slightly dismayed at the fact that his speeches were more of a torture to the human then pain. Shaking his nearly baldhead, he responded, "And I was planning to continue this over a cup of tea."

"Or not continue this at all," Illyria's hesitantly angered voice arose in the conversation as she entered the grand room, throwing one of the demon's guards across the floor, where it skidded into the wall.

The sorcerer's eyes widened as he saw her, as though her appearance had suddenly rekindled some fire that had been lost… or a memory.

"Y-you killed me!" He shouted accusingly, stepping back and pointing a long, crimson finger at her. Glancing down at the knife in his hand, and regaining his composure, the demon informed her harshly, "Now I'll make you pay."

Illyria narrowed her eyes as she watched him approach Wesley, the knife clasped tightly in his narrow hands over laced with chapped flesh.

"You will not harm him," she stated coldly, and in one stride she was standing before Wesley—an immortal shield.

The ex-watcher made no comments as he watched the scenes play out, unsure how to complete the puzzle he was mentally building without necessary pieces or a box.

The demon set his cold, emotionless stare upon her, taking in the details of her appearance and finding his way to the core-- to who she was. Cautiously, yet with a slight elderly kindness buried beneath layers of malice and hate, he inquired, "Do you love him?"

Illyria was taken back by the simple question; part of her, the dead part that still lingered within her mind, did, and very much at that. The rest of her saw him as a guardian, a friend… and more.

For the first time in her existence, before, during and after her reign, Illyria had no answer. And this left her in a state of confusion that opened up a door for the demon to strike…

* * *

**A/N: **Tried to make it not too much of a cliffhanger, I need to spread it out anyways. Is the wording confusing? I think it might be… I aplogize for any typos or such, had to post this in a hurry. Anyways, personal replies coming up and then don't forget to review! No reviews means no update!

**Philyra: **Hm… between Gunn or Wesley… she can try, who do you want to see live?

**WhiteRabbit: ** She has changed, hasn't she? Hope you like where it is going…

**Tracy Winston: **Aw… thank you! I feel all happy now…

**Split Butterfly: **Buffy/Spike? Not here, but most likely in the other one I'm writing… forgive me, but I do prefer that couple over Angel/Buffy…

**Lightening Bug: **::Pats on back:: There, there… if it's any consolation, Joss is evil.

**Myaxle aka m.m.z.: **Continuing… that's basically the plot here…

**Ilovemypenguin: **Just wait and see… ::Evil cackle::

**Tp96: **Will continue writing, and thanks for the review! Whenever I finish this one, I'll write the other season…

**Whistler: **Okay, and I shall… It'll most likely be called 'Shards' (has already started the first episode), so if you find it, drop by and leave a couple of reviews, okay?

**Williams Girl: **Oh… erm, I'm not a B/A shipper… Spike/Illyria wouldn't suck as a couple. As for the honey thing, I'm obsessive with the stuff… or I had a cold when I wrote that chapter and my throat hurt lots so honey was stuck in everything to make it be less painful… Angelus and a lot of bunnies? ::Shivers:: See? I'm continuing right here… just keep the twitchy things away from me!

**Tariq: **Hi… and sure, just later.

**Candlewick866: **Ending was evil… evil, evil, evil… you're welcome, hope you enjoyed the chapter!

**Mayzon: **Will definitely keep you updated. Thanks for the review!

**Lonely Brit: **::Grins:: Thanks! Well, here's more… hope you like…

**The Bell and the Black Dragon: **::Throws hands up in the air:: Okay… _no _script form, I can promise you that no matter what I write. Scripts and me work together like… (something food) brownies and mustard. So, can I get a free coffee for updating?

**Travalie: **In that case, I will definitely post a notice. Hm… do you know where to find free e-mail places? Recommend starspath.com…

**REVIEWS!!!**


	4. Chapter Three: Existence

**_You're Where I Am_**

**Chapter Three: _Existence _**

**By EclipseKlutz**

**PG-13**

**Drama/Action/Adventure/Romance/Horror**

**Spoilers: **Within season finale, 'Not Fade Away'

**Disclaimer: **Just like the frogs outside don't shut up, I don't own any of Angel's characters, or the show for that matter, they are all property of Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy respectively.

**A/N: **Blah… Will need to wrap this up soon, unfortunately, but there's a few things sucking away my time at the moment (and none of them are pretty), so updates will most likely take a while.

* * *

Vail's legacy in the past had yet to betray him; his menacing existence itself had won him a chair in the circle of the Black Thorn, and his ability to see through unnatural folds in time had allowed him to restore the seat time and time again. In a way, he was the grandfather of the Black Thorn, the yet-to-retire veteran, and in a way he was the leader's council.

Yet when he'd seen the fold replay this time around, he was left in utter terror at what a simple misjudgment had left him with—nothing. So when the ex-watcher came strutting into his manor, he found himself determined to prevent the past, even if that meant killing Wesley sooner then the time before, or so now that he knew what the man was up to.

But something underneath it all, his hidden desire to become the Black Thorn's best—the Black Thorn's president, leader, its master, he had not alerted the others. No, they would see their fate with their own eyes, and repeat the misery once more.

Everything had been set, his sorcery at its best, the stage, and as he'd seen when Wesley walked in, the knife. From there it was only a matter of time, yet as he decided to make his killing blow the all-powerful god-king he'd only ever read about entered the scene.

It had taken him a few moments to realize who she was, that she had been the previous time this day was designed in the disguise of a mortal. Yet upon this, he _knew _what was to become of him… he just couldn't let it happen.

The question slipped out before he could stop it, only lingering in his mind because of the flicker of emotions displayed across her face. "Do you love him?"

She couldn't answer… or wouldn't. Either way, he was left with an opening. His grip tightened around the knife's handle as he strode forwards, pulling back his arm with full intention of striking the mortal behind Illyria for the second time… and hopefully the last.

* * *

This was a sincere drag for him—kick there, stake there, anything painful enough to keep them at bay. Illyria's earlier words had indeed been taken to heart; after all she'd been a bit… off all day, even for her.

So far though, he had the would-be president dead and about a dozen of her minions eligible victims for a vacuum cleaner. But the more vampires Charles killed, the more seemed to come.

Adrenaline surged through him as he rushed for the door, shoving aside several vampires to reach his destination. His great moment of glory though was cut short as the tip of his foot caught on the edge of a stair and he tumbled to the ground.

And upon rolling over onto his back, the long-time demon hunter knew what would become of him… if he didn't stop it first.

* * *

Illyria saw Vail proceed several precious seconds after he made the movements, and only just managed to grab his wrist before the blade pierced Wesley's stomach. The sorcerer glared at her through narrow eyes, and roughly placed his free hand over hers, scorching the flesh on her knuckles.

Grimacing, Illyria managed to keep herself from pulling away, in fear for the mortal whom she'd already risked so much for-- after all that effort, it would be pointless to allow him die because of a third-degree burn.

"Silly girl," he chastised, "Even if you mend what was previously destroyed, someone will have to die in his place."

"Then this 'someone' shall be you," Illyria informed him angrily, meeting his glare with one of her own.

Vail laughed, a light chuckling that was utmost disturbing in the present situation. "Oh, no, my dear. I am already destined to die, as is he-" –he tilted his head towards Wesley-"-so if you are to save him, then another of your own will die in his place."

"Then it shall be me," She whispered in response, her eyes flickering downwards for a moment as she added another of her own hands to the handle of the knife and shoved him backwards before attempting to free it from his grip.

The sorcerer's grip though revealed itself to be too strong, and from his own position he countered her actions with pushing the knife lower and forwards, even with her heart.

"Stop it!" Wesley commanded harshly, surprising himself by the action. "Illyria, I thank you, but if the apocalypse is truly coming then it is you, not me, Angel will need to help prevent it."

"You won't be with Fred if you die now, this way," Illyria stated coldly yet quietly. "She's not dead…"

"Yes she is," Wesley responded, his voice trembling, "I saw her die."

"She's not alive either," Illyria continued, choosing to ignore what he'd said. "When I… when Fred was infected, her soul—her very essence was destroyed. She's nothing now, not dead, not alive… like she was never anything to begin with."

The words were harsh, this Illyria knew too well. But it was time he knew the truth… no matter how hard he tried, he'd never be able to revive Fred as more than a memory or a lie, and he'd never see the real one again, even in the afterlife.

* * *

**A/N: **Sorry, but due to time, I've got to end it here…

**WhiteRabbit: **Thanks tons!

**Hieiko: **Um… well, I guess, but Illyria or Wesley?

**Tp96: **You're welcome… I guess, and good luck! Will have to go read it…

**Khrystyne: **Just wait and see.

**Wesfan1234: **Nods Exactly! Consequences, oh, consequences… a.k.a. lots and lots of fun…

**Split Butterfly: **Peachy? Is that a good or bad thing?

**Tariq: **Hi, thanks, and you're welcome… but for what?

**Tarvalie: **Ooh… Thanks.

**Williams Girl: **slaps beta reader There you go. Uh… as for the pizza thing:

_Illyria stared at the… the thing that Wesley had just placed on her plate, summing it up as best as she could. Triangle, covered mostly in a gooey off-yellow substance littered with round red things that resembled meat. Timidly, she poked it, and upon receiving no reaction decided it was relatively safe, but still…_

_"Do you have a tester, Wesley? I would not trust this," she announced bitterly, poking the thing once more._

_Wesley rolled his eyes and took a bite of his own, waiting a second before informing her, "I haven't rolled over and died yet, have I?"_

_Illyria nodded, taking his statement into consideration as she experimented with ways to hold it without the gooey substance slipping off. Finally discovering how to keep it in her grip, she carefully, if not reluctantly, bit off the tip, swallowing a piece of pepperoni whole._

_Contorting her expression into a look of complete disgust, Illyria made a point of tearing the pepperonis off of her slice before trying to bite into it again. This time, the cheese was stubbornly refusing to separate, just become stringier, so as she placed the pizza down this time, Illyria pulled off the cheese and from there just ate the bread and sauce._

_"You know," she told Wesley after finishing her piece, "This isn't horrid."_

_Wesley merely shook his head as she reached for another piece._

**Shahid: **Uh… thanks for Vail's name, but from there… uh, no.


	5. Chapter Four: Heaven's a Lie

**You're Where I Am**  
**Chapter Four: _Heaven's a Lie_  
By EclipseKlutz**

**PG-13  
Action/Adventure/Drama/Romance  
Disclaimer: **If I owned _Angel_ Wes wouldn't have died…

**A/N: **This chapter is, more or less, exploring why Illyria, even though she'd resumed the form of Fred, was so willing to kiss Wes in the last episode…

* * *

A deathly silence rang through the room, preceded by a stale stillness that led one to wonder if time had frozen in its place—afraid to unfold the sequences that were soon to come. No one was moving, and had it not been for the fact that they remained breathing it would have seemed that they were merely life-size figurines to a dramatic movie scene. But this was no act in a story, this was reality…

Finally though, Wesley spoke, slicing through the harsh silence—his voice choked and constricted as though he was refusing to utter the words he said anyway, "Fr-Fred's dead?"

Illyria narrowed her eyes at him; the stubborn mortal he was could not accept what he had seen. "Have you not been listening?"

"How very… interesting," Vail drawled, making it very obvious how bored he was becoming with the conversation. Removing his own long, scabbed fingers from Illyria's fist he stepped back and announced carelessly, "You're both free to leave."

Illyria spun around, momentarily ignoring that Wesley was still dangling in the air, suspended by an invisible force. Although still on guard and keeping her senses attuned, she inquired of him in a dangerously soft voice, "You tell us to leave, to forget this… what is it you're waiting for?"

Vail neglected to reply for a moment, as he pulled both of his arms behind his back and shook his head. "Nothing, of course nothing."

"You lie!" Illyria stated through gritted teeth, her voice rising slightly with the words. Without warning she lunged forwards and allowed the anger, the grief, and the frustration canned up inside her to spill out of the surface.

It was a matter of seconds before Vail was pinned against the highly polished walls, receiving blow after blow from the ex-god-king, none of which seemed to have and particular target but they all collided with him nonetheless. Despite the blood trickling down his face, and the pain searing through his body, the aged demon let out a low snigger, which turned into a chuckle that allowed for a grin to seep onto his face.

Illyria took a step back, eyes wide and obviously alarmed by his sudden actions only to be caught in the gut with a surge of energy, sending her across the room and leaving her winded, sprawled out in odd angles on the floor beside the wall she'd had contact with.

Wesley, though, had used this dilemma to free himself from the barrier that restricted him, yet the efforts left him feeling weak—what little power he had left would be lucky if it could conjure a small fireball. Still, he had to try…

Behind him, Illyria had climbed to her feet and was now engaged in a fierce clash of will and power with Vail, but it was next to impossible to predict who'd win by the current circumstance. With their attention distracted, he clenched his eyes shut tight and willed the strength and magicks still lingering within his system to flow into his hand, and in one movement he hurled it at the ceiling and collapsed to the floor—breathing heavily.

He couldn't bring himself to stand; although the cracking noises running along the ceiling and the walls alerted him that if he didn't run soon he'd be trapped beneath the rubble. No… he wouldn't stand; he'd lie here and die, and he'd allow his life to leave with the pride of knowing he'd saved Illyria and that he'd see Fred again…

Fred's face dragged itself into his mind, fogging his vision. He'd had his fairy-tale ending, he'd had his princess; and then she was stolen from him… It didn't seem fair that she'd died—he would have died in her place if he'd had a chance… His thoughts wandered, hovering around his memories of Fred as he abandoned all regard for the fact that the building he was residing in would be collapsing soon, as it was no longer able to reside on its now-broken main beam.

Suddenly, something hit the ground beside him with a loud 'thud' and blood instantly made a puddle around the figure, some of it drenching his hand and arm… but he didn't care. He didn't notice either as a shadow fell across him and he felt himself being gently lifted from the ground and carried hastily out of the building. His attention only redeemed itself as he heard a voice he knew too well, the one of the woman he'd seen die… the one of his true love.

"Wesley, c'mon, Wes, wake up," Fred's voice was pleading, and he felt a delicate hand run through his hair. "Don't give in, Wes… don't give up."

He felt fresh tears slap down on his face, sliding down his cheeks, and then he felt himself being clutched hard in Fred's embrace, and distantly he heard her crying, "I won't loose you again, Wes… not again."

Still he felt her grip tighten, and her sobs growing slightly louder as she buried her head in his shoulder, obscuring her voice as she begged him not to give in…

_'But give in to what?' _he found himself wondering faintly.

"Don't give in, Wes," she sounded grieved, barely able to speak through her tears, "Heaven's a lie… don't give into it…"

_'Heaven's a… what?' _Wes wondered, his mid still drowsy and hazy—unable to register _HH_

Fred's words. Then he briefly felt her mouth on his and then suddenly colder as she drew away.

"Heaven's a lie." It wasn't Fred's sweet, delicate voice anymore uttering this phrase. It was Illyria's; grief-ridden and dulled by faint sobs he would never have expected to hear from her.

Finally, with all the will he managed to muster, Wesley blinked his eyes open, taking in the foggy darkness, only broken through with light from the flickering streetlamp nearby. He was lying in the mud beside a collapsed building, his head resting on Illyria's lap. Illyria herself had her head in her hands, choking back tears and apparently forbidding herself to look down at him—down at what she thought would be a corpse.

He hesitated, but this was overridden as he reached forwards and gently pulled her hands away from her face, and saw that she had indeed been shedding tears. There was not much time for him to do anything else though for he was instantly pulled into a suffocating embrace, with Illyria still sobbing into his shoulder—although this time he hoped it was from relief.

"You died in my arms last time," she managed to say, her voice muffled from the cloth of his shoulder. "I would not watch it happen again."

He didn't have enough air in his lungs to respond, and was grateful when she let go, tears still sparkling on her cheeks. With a great amount of effort, he hauled himself to his feet before offering to help Illyria do the same. She ignored his hand though and climbed to her feet herself, apparently slightly embarrassed by her earlier display of emotion.

Gently wiping off several of the tears, he responded quietly, "You're right though, Heaven's a lie."

She nodded, but he could have sworn he heard her mutter as she turned away,"But only when you are charged to keep one from it."

_'Then she succeeded.'_

**The End**

* * *

**A/N: **Well, that's a wrap… hope you enjoyed and don't you dare forget to review!

**Shahid: **You can be reassured that I've yet to kill Gunn.

**Tp96: **Patience is a virtue… that not many seem to have…

**Split Butterfly: **So it _is _a good thing then. Okay, well, hope you're happy!

**Philyra: **Hope you're satisfied with the way this turned out… it didn't seem right for this specific fic to put too much about Gunn in there. Thanks for the many reviews you've given to this fic since it began!

**Tariq: **'Tis okay, and thanks, by the way for the reviews.

**Hieko: **lol… Well, hope you're satisfied… Vail was mostly trying to creep them out. The Angel crew have bent the rules several times in the past.

**Ann aka tnbella: **Thanks -. That's really nice…:starts tallying things off, then gives up: a lot of people have said what you did about my take on Illyria so far.

**The Shadower: **First off, thanks for the very long and detailed and nice reviews! The Season 6 I'm writing will not share in this plot, as there's several other ideas I maintain for Wes's resurrection, but at the rate I'm going there may not be a S6 at all. Personally, I'm a fan of both ships (Wes/Illyria, Wes/Fred) but I understand where you're coming from. And as for the B/A thing, you'll never have anything to fear—I cannot stand the two together. And I apologize for wrapping this up now, but there's so many fics I want to work on right now and I've set myself a limit of only two stories at once due to old circumstances in which five fics had to be taken down, so hopefully you'll understand there. And once again, thanks a ton for your reviews.

**Wesfan1234: **Really? You're right—they can't kill Wes, he's too big of a character… of course, they can't end a series like that either, now can they?

**Just as a reminder, REVIEW! And thanks for reading.**


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